Patience above! There is nothing as busy as the days prior to a holiday. There’s work to be done, not just at work but at home. I dislike leaving a mess at home and dislike even more coming home to one, so along with tonight’s packing is cleaning. Someone is working only until noon today, so I am sending him telepathic messages put everything away and in its place so I only have to pack the suitcase.*

My mode of packing always starts with the medicines viz. filling the pillboxes for the right amount of days we are away, and an extra day’s worth is added, in case there is this crisis and we have to stay an extra day for some reason.** The second step is packing the Dopp Kit with toiletries and bathroom sundries. Someone brings as little as possible and if something is needed he goes out to buy it. I was in the Boy Scouts and go for the ‘be prepared’ route. I pack ‘CVS-lite’ viz. a little of everything that may come in handy.

After the dog died we didn’t disassemble her cage in the bedroom, somewhat out of laziness and somewhat out of grief, but the main reason is the top makes a great place to put things such as stuff to put in the suitcase. I gather up the clothes and items from the ‘to pack’ list and place it there so I can see how much I am bringing. If this pile gets as high as Fafner’s hoard, then I know I am packing too much and start putting things back, ala “Survivor” or whatever it was called where thems on an island vote and eject others as not worthy. Someone is an excellent packer; he looks in to an empty suitcase and deduces how much he can fit in and does so without deficit. Normally he packs everything (car, the Christmas tree in its box) but I do my own luggage.

I don’t remember when is our flight time tomorrow. I hope it isn’t some ghastly early thing that requires us getting up at 4AM. I like flights that leave 9-11AM, what my late father called ‘civilized flying’. There is no direct flight to Puerto Rico (worse luck) so there is some layover somewhere. I am neurotic about layovers and want ample time between flights – hours if possible. Not to be worrying! Someone takes care of our travels and I am sure he’s arranged ample time. Maybe enough for lunch.

Our luggage from Lands End is Jungle Red, which makes it stand out readily among all the black suitcases on the conveyor belt at luggage pick-up. Alas, Babylon! There’s been no time to clean them; they are quite smudged with black from use. We are showing up with dirty luggage and there will be talk.

Someone needs to remind me how to turn on the the alarm system. We haven’t used it for years given the dog would wander the house and set it off. The code to turn it on/off and the camera needs to be angled to see down the hall. I need the app back on the phone.

Although there is much to do I trust by tomorrow when on the plane with Someone at my side with a bloody Mary in hand today’s turmoil will make it all worthwhile. Let us hope so.

*Fat chance of that.

**I carry the meds in the carry-on Ghost Bag, lest the luggage is lost and I am bereft of meds until it is located. Oh the horror.

There is a smart collection of short stories written by a Mr. O’brien about a group of soldiers and they carry into battle. These things aren’t ‘essential’ but items that are meaningful to them, such as photos of loved ones and knick-knacks of nostalgia. When I go on holiday I pack some items that I find ‘necessary’ or at least wanted for the trip. The trip would be fine without them but better for having them.

Let’s look a few of these starting with the useful carries:

A backscratcher. Urs Truly never travels without one. My back often gets itchy and must be scratched. When it comes to a good scratch the wooden stick with the curved end resembling a hand beats Someone by a country mile. As I address my acnestis, I say ‘Joy to itch in a minute!” which I think is from Shakespeare, but I am not certain. Lovely.

A night light. In the dopp kit with the toiletries is a plastic night light, which is plugged into the outlet in the hotel loo. This way when I get up in the night I don’t have to turn on the bathroom light which sometimes resembles a spotlight in a circus. I think I learned this trick in The Boy Scouts.

A sewing kit. Not a big one, but a portable small one, the size of a small deck of cards, containing needle, thread, a few buttons, and a small set of scissors. This has often saved the day for a dangling thread or tear or a loose button. I often meet up with chums wearing Spo-shirts that have seen better days and are in need of mending (the shirts, not the chums).

A key ring. Most resorts have their keys upon a nondescript key ring that all look alike especially from afar. Many times I have put down mine only to accidently pick up another fellow’s room key.* If attach to my key to another ring with colorful bright shiny things attached, I can tell which key is mine from across the room.

What about the useless things?

Baby bottles of booze. Over the months we accumulate somehow tiny bottles the type they used to give you on airplane trips until they got mean about it. These come in handy to add to the breakfast juice or the afternoon’s cola to give them some umami, and if you are hankering for a highball you don’t have to run out to the local store to buy a large bottle of bourbon which often at enormous expense.

Tins of Sardines. I don’t remember when I started associating eating sardines with being on vacation, but there it is. I get me some crackers and open up the tins I packed in my luggage and consume these delicacies downwind and away from the others. They are enough for lunch. Afterwards it is ‘don’t kiss no toads” as Spos like to say.

Assorted pencils and a pencil sharpener. I write using pencil when writing in my journals and they are a must for GAMES magazine puzzles. I am picky about my pencils; I only want top quality types, like my tea – or my men. I have to bring along a pencil sharpener as no one these days is likely to have one. A good pencil sharpened to a point is a joy; do not dare to question this.

and finally . . . .

Proper teabags (no rubbish). Perhaps this one ought to be above in the ‘useful’ category or even ‘essential’ like plane tickets, money, and Spo-shirts. I have yet to stay at any USA resort or hotel that brews tea made properly, so I bring my own. English breakfast or Irish Breakfast travels well, and they are good for the morning while others in the group are drinking coffee or diet cola. I warm up what is being passed off as a teapot, throw out that water, add the bags and then more hot water to let things steep for some minutes. A touch of milk is added if the tannins cause headache. This happens often, but isn’t it worth it?

What are the must-have items you carry when traveling?

*No, this is not being devious, it is being a dimwit.

What’s top of my mind: Puerto Rico. This Saturday Someone and I fly to PR for a week’s holiday of not much. It is landmark holiday for the both of us. For Someone, it is his first vacation in many years; for Urs Truly it is his first vacation in two decades that won’t he won’t do check-ins with work. I suspect we will be both challenged to relax. Will he get antsy and check in with his work? Will he feels guilty and it mar the fun? Will I be able to let go of whatever is happening back home? Time will tell.

Where I’ve been: dinner with a throuple. Last weekend in Lost Vegas we had dinner with a three fine fellows well over four feet who are in a three-way relationship. I met them in Palm Spring last year and they seemed nice fellows; I was glad to keep in touch and see them again as I did. It is curious to consider living in a relationship of three people. It is hard enough for two people to endure one another (ho ho ho) so can you imagine three? They have been together for decades, so they must be doing something right. Someone, who hadn’t met them until now, had some difficulties remembering who was who. This was complicated by them all wearing the same shirt and each as charming as the other two. It was a pleasure to see them again. I had kept in touch with two out of three; I hope now to continue with the whole set.

Where I’m going: a resort of questionable qualities. Despite being told several times the name of the resort, it doesn’t stick. What I remember about the place is their ad saying it is 420-friendly, and while you are here they can arrange for some local person to get you a medicinal license to have some. I do hope I am not going to be having around with a bunch of stoners for seven days. The other thing I remember is some of the guest rooms have eyebrow-raising furniture to suggest all is not just lying around poolside reading books. I have no plans to get a so-called medicinal card from some quack, nor do I plan to run amok up to no good that’s certain. Perhaps our party will be seen as old stogies not worth inviting to shenanigans.

What I’m watching: my diet. My innards lately resemble a volcano about to become active. What is happening in there? Is it diet? There are a few things I could abstain from to test the hypothesis. Regardless of etiology I my innards need to calm down or it will spoil the week’s holiday.

What I’m reading: vacation books. Reading books is always good, but reading books read on holiday is especially choice. When on vacation I prefer ‘light’ reads, nothing too heavy or depressing. This Friday I will hold an inspection of the books on the ‘to read’ shelf for something appropriate. Jolly good fun!

Do you read a certain type of book when on vacation?

What I’m listening: Diana Ross. After last weekend’s concert, I downloaded a few of Ms. Ross’ tunes into my playlists. ‘I’m coming out’ and ‘You can’t hurry love’ are there as is ”The theme from Mahogoney’. I love this song with its melancholic reflection. This reminds me to pack a speaker device for Puerto Rico, so we can hear ‘Upside down” while playing cards at poolside.

What I’m eating: ramen. Someone recently went to a lunch place that served him a hot dog and a side of ramen. He isn’t keen about ramen so he brought it home knowing I would probably like it. This is like bringing home a steak bone to your dog; I can not think of anything more scrumptious. The ‘side dish’ was in a large plastic deli container, deep as Lake Michigan. I ate it with relish for my lunch the other day. Oh! To eat ramen all the time! Alas, Babylon, it is just a once in awhile treat for me.

Who needs a good slap: The Paris Hotel in Lost Vegas. Our resort had faults and disappointments. First was the daily ‘resort fee’ which seems to be just another way of charging more without saying so. The parking (which used to be free) is quite expensive. We we assured our hotel key would allow in/out privileges but this never worked; we had to always call the desk for help while unhappy people behind us had to wait our resolution. The room was clean but had an overall air of ‘faded’ in need of an uplift. Perhaps things are no different in other resorts on the strip, but if/when I return to Lost Vegas I will go somewhere else.

Who gets a fist-bump: The Other Michael. The Other Michael (A.K.A. Tod) is a dear for seeking out activities. He’s asked AI (or something like it) for ideas of things to do in PR. He will bring along the Mexican Dominos, something we played when in Palm Springs. Jolly good fun! DougT is already there, so he should know the area and how to get around by the time we arrive. I just have to show up and look pretty.*

What I’m planning: board games. I enjoy board games but I never play them, worse luck. At home we are either too tired or there are other things (pleasant and tedious) to do. Getting down a board game from the shelf and making time to play it requires effort. Truth be told Someone isn’t keen on board games. I hope to bring a couple of games with me on the trip, both two-person and four-person types. On the games shelf are a few not yet opened, just a “Odins ravens’. These are risky to bring because if we don’t care for them we’re stuck. Best to bring along ‘sure bets’ like Sorry! and Backgammon, which when played provide guaranteed amusement and (if all goes well) murders and suicide. I put a few travel games in Someone’s stocking last Christmas; let’s see if he proposes we bring them.

Do you bring cards or games to play when you go on vacation?

What’s making me smile: my first proper holiday in twenty years. I will be antsy for a few days and then I hope only a once in a while about not checking in with work. The Medical Assistant and The Boss both have my email and cellphone if they absolutely need to get hold of me. Both vow sooner they’d eat rats at San Juan than doing so, so there it is.

It does not mean a break from blogging. Far from it. I will have plenty of time to report on all happenings, such as who is winning (or cheating) at cards and any gossip and goings-on.

*Fat chance of that.

Did you have any chores as a kid? Do you hate or love doing it now?

There were the usual tasks of keeping things tidy and picking up my bedroom prior to the cleaning lady arriving on Tuesday. Mother wasn’t one to insist we do the dishes and Father took out the trash. The main task (and I shudder at the memory) was mowing the lawn. I hated mowing the lawn. Sooner I’d eat rats at Tewkesbury. I thought it sensible to hire someone as most houses on the block did, but Father felt with four sons this was something they ought to do. Truth was Father liked mowing the lawn and thought all boys felt the same. We tried the ‘you like this/we don’t so you do it’ approach which went over like a lead balloon. Perhaps Father was vain: what would the neighbors think if they saw him mowing the lawn while his sons were inside enjoying themselves? Oh the embarrassment.

None of the brothers liked the lawn, so the odious task couldn’t be given to the one who liked it; we all had to do it in turn. Cut grass smelled odious and it made my eyes water and my nose run. Father wasn’t having the notion of ‘feeding the lawn’ with the fine clippings. We had the sack in the back type of mowers, which required frequent pauses to empty the contents into black garden bags and haul them to the curb all the while praying the plastic bag wouldn’t burst. Oh the horror.

Mowing the lawn was seasonal, only to be replaced by raking leaves in the autumn and shoveling driveways in winter. Growing up while doing these tasks I made mental notes to become rich enough to hire someone to do these tasks for me, or get a snow blower, or move somewhere sans grass, sans trees, sans snow (that means without). Perhaps to a condo if necessary. I now live in the desert which has none of these chores, yet there is need for yard maintenance. Turns out no one here does their own, it’s all done by young men who often don’t speak English.

Sometimes I think to return to the Midwest but this probably means back to a lawn and a driveway. If we do look for a place in Michigan I will be look closely at the yard and driveway dimensions for this reason. There is a part of me that thinks I might actually enjoy these tasks now, provided the volume isn’t too vast unlike the childhood home which had yards as wide as a ball park. It’s another example of the primal scream of children through time: we despise our parents then we turn into them.

As you are reading this, Someone and I are easing down the road (highway 93) home to Phoenix. After all there is no place like it. It was a good conference; it had the right combination of ~ 80% “I know this” that give me a sense of satisfaction I am keeping up on things and 20% ‘I didn’t know that!” of new information to be a better doctor. There were a few moments of ‘everything you know is wrong’ about things I learned years ago I thought still valid. The constant growth of my speciality is one of the things I like about it.

The long drive home always makes me thoughtful, even pensive, particularly the future. As Diana Ross sang in her concert:

Do you know where you’re going to? Do you like the things that life is showing you?

I don’t know where I’m going now in life and sometimes I am ok with not knowing, enjoying The Journey like in the poem “Ithaka”. Some times I would like a destination with a road map, such as a retirement plan. Someone and I had a talk over dinner the other day. We both have the tendency not to think of retirement but for different rationales. He always thought he would have to keep working lest he run out of money and be destitute in his old age. I never thought of planning for the future on the grounds I wouldn’t be having one. But here we are. We are rich as Roosevelt and he doesn’t have to work anymore and I have to look at living a regular lifespan. I hope this leads to a new way of living.

I’ve been so focused on this weekend it hasn’t dawned on me next weekend we go to Puerto Rico for our first proper holiday in ages. In the past recent years I would go places and Someone would stay home for the dog. He will be getting out of the house for the first time in many years and I hope he enjoys himself. Unlike most trips this one is a blank, I have no pre-expectations or notions what we are going to do for a full week. The flight details, the hotel arrangements, and provisional pasttimes are all done by others in our party. Fine by me. I would be quite content to sit poolside, read books, play cards, and drink iced drinks, hopefully with rum in them. It will be my first vacation in twenty years I won’t be checking in with work. Believe it or not, this is going to be difficult. I brought the work laptop with me to Lost Vegas and everyday I checked in as is my wont. This allowes a good night’s sleep on Sunday night: there won’t be any surprises or pile up come Monday morning. Imagine what a week off could do? Can the world spin without me? I guess I will soon find out.

But let’s not count chickens. I have a week of work to do and there is packing to prepare. I find it fun to make a ‘pack’ list so when I think of something to bring like sunglasses, card games, a proper tea* I write it down so come Friday night I am not wondering what to pack. Jolly good fun!

*It is prudent to pack proper tea as what’s offered is often rubbish, even at the best of resorts. DougT drinks tea too, but he’s content with Lipton with lots of sugar added. Oh the horror.

Urs Truly loves Tiki bars. He likes to show up in one of his shirts and take in the ersatz Polynesian decor and have a couple of cocktails made with freshly-squeezed fruits – three if Someone is driving. Jolly good fun! Alas, Babylon! I I am done now and on my don’t go often, worse luck. Apart from the indecorous effects of alcohol, tiki drinks have a lot of sugar in them, so I see them as a sometime treat, like chocolate ice cream. You do you: go have your two scoops with sprinkles; I will take a Mai Tai:

Tiki bars tend to trend in two types: The first is the upscale version, looking more like a posh cocktail lounge with a some bamboo and a waterfall added. The other is the kitschy camp-ground with plastic gods and inflatable pineapples and swizzle sticks with hula dancers on them.

Whether swanky or silly, the tiki drinks must be made well, no rubbish types! There are the traditional drinks like the Mai Tai, the Scorpion, and the Zombie.* Then there are the nouveau ‘fusion’ Tiki-inspired cocktails. These aren’t as ‘fun’ but they can be tasty in the hands of a good bartender. I always ask the waitress or bartender what is the house’s best, and often go with that.

Once upon a time I got a book on the history of tiki cocktails and I wrote down the names of the cocktails I would try next time we were in Palm Springs. This happened February 2020 and needless to say it didn’t happen. I’ve been trying to catch up ever since. I carry a list in my phone and I get itout whenever I am in a tiki bar. The list has a lot of drinks from the 40s and the 50s that are no longer made as they are not ‘hip’ or the ingredients are no longer available. I end up playing the tiki version of ‘the cheese shop’ sketch from Monty Python, with as much success. No harm asking.

On Friday night we went to a local tiki bar that we found when we were last here in Lost Vegas. It is located in a strip mall and it is definitely in the kitsch style. This one looks like it is from the 50s and hasn’t been updated since. The drinks are served with various fried nibbles and there is no attempt to appease the elite with fancy food. I had pork sliders and bowl of fries as deep as Lake Michigan.

Here is Someone, engrossed in a gambling game and light years away. It gives me the opportunity to check out the room. There is a rawther large man dressed as Freddy Kruger and another one looking like Jack Sparrow minus his charms.

When you go to the loo a rude recording comes on while you are standing there doing your business. It makes shade how disappointing my wife must be. I shout out the joke’s on you mister so much for your judgment. Do not do this while another fellow is standing next to you.

The drinks were OK, there weren’t any particular fancy or traditional ones on the menu. If I want some of those, I need to make them at home.This requires squeezing a lot of fruit and getting exotic ingredient some of them expensive and hard to find. Woe is me if I make something and don’t like it; I will have a nearly full bottle of a mixer no longer needed.

*When the zombie was invented, it sell well with the butch types, who thought tiki drinks too girly. The bar put a warning on the menu: only two per customer, given the so-called knock-out they give. The drink then sold like hotcakes.

Hey! I haven’t done a ‘wasn’t the grass greener?’ entries in a while. This one was inspired by my nieces, who aren’t thinking of getting jobs this summer but more classes. Spo.

I heard tell today’s teens aren’t interested in summer jobs. I read 72% of youngsters don’t do such work. When I was a lad, I looked forward to having a summer work. It gave me something to do and it got me out of the house. There was pride in having money of my own. My parents were glad to have me out of the house as well, and there was less nagging for money. My brothers don’t seem to be pushing their kids to get summer jobs. There seems to be some fear their kids won’t get into a good college unless they fatten their applications with activities and get their grades up, which they do by taking AP classes or ‘prep’ courses. How horrible this sounds to me. A summer job was not leisure time, but at least it was a break from school. Non-stop schooling sounds dreary.

I once asked an expert on why kids aren’t working. It wasn’t they were lazy but several factors are at hand. One factor is things being automated. Yesterday Someone and I stopped at a McDonald’s. Rather than a row of workers to great us, there were large screens to touch to order food. The one employee in view, a fellow perhaps in his sixties, brought us our food from the back when it was ready. Why hire teens to taker your order or bag your groceries when the customer can do it themselves?

If you have to hire someone, it makes some sense to get an old person, who probably has better work ethic to show up on time and is more likely to work longer than the summer season. When I interact with an over-sixty busboy or waitress, I sense they connect to me, they have manners, and they say ‘you’re welcome’ – good things. I sense the employed elderly ‘need’ to work rather than the teens supported by their parents.

Here in Arizona jobs that were done by teens back in the Midwest in the 70s are being done by immigrants. Folks here decry ‘illegals taking our jobs’ but in truth the jobs they do are menial types – and today’s teens are loathe to work grunge jobs – and their parents agree. There seems to be a bent status symbol to say Amber is taking AP classes this summer and not working at McDonald’s or Menards. Oh the embarrassment.

I don’t know if there is data to support my intuition today’s kids are content to stay home on their phones rather than go out. They see low paying hussle work as not worthwhile. Nor are they wanting their own money to get a car or go out. I wonder too if the parents support this viz. helicopter parents feeling ill at ease if Junior is out in the world and not at home, safe and supervised. Mind! I have no kids. I am a desert dweller lecturing on ice bergs here. Perhaps Spo-fans with kids can clarify.

I know a college admissions person who disclosed they prefer candidates to their college kids with some work experience. Working implies experience dealing with others, such as solving problems and facing conflicts – all good things in a person – skill youngsters these days don’t seem to have.

Greeting from Lost Vegas

Urs Truly is sitting in an auditorium at the Paris Hotel, waiting for the lecturer (or someone like him) to commence educating me with the latest. This morning’s topics include:

Ketamine and the potential role for rapid-acting antidepressant medication

The role of inflammation in psychosis

Taming the unquiet mind: next frontiers in the treatment of OCD.

Jolly good fun!

I like learning this way; it’s good to sit among colleagues and listen to lecturers. Young doctors poo-poo this approach, arguing they can get CME online and for a fraction of the price. True, but there is no schmoozing and social interactions that way; they should know better. I don’t know if this is consciously done but the lecturers are good looking dudes in suits; they are pleasant to see as well as melodious in voice. If the lecture series is good, I will get about ratio of 80% ‘I already know this (a satisfaction of being on top of things) and 20% Hot puppies! I didn’t know that, making the trip worthwhile.

The Nevada Psychiatric Society has good content. It is also the biggest conference I’ve attended; there are over a thousand shrinks here it looks like. This is my first time here, so the lady at the registration desk attached to my ID badge a bright tag in bold letter ‘FIRST TIME ATTENDEE”. In theory this attracts members of the committee (or someone like them) to come up to me and greet me and offer me services or perhaps some after-lecture activities oh dear there goes my mind down sordid pathways. Being away at a convention does that to me. After all this is Lost Vegas.

While I am sitting in lecture hall learning things and drooling at the presenters Someone is upstairs asleep, orbiting the moons of Jupiter. This is his first real time off from work in years and I hope he will not check in with work out of guilt but enjoy himself Brother #3 told him there is a good gangster museum in town, so he may check that out. Someone states he may not gamble any. He is an excellent gambler that he allots himself so much money to spend per day, seeing this as the money he will spend for the entertainment of gambling, and when it goes, that’s the end. Good for him! He likes table games for the camaraderie. Apparently tables are scarce these days, having been replaced by video games, and what tables there are have sky-high minimums no fun in that.

Tonight we hear Diana Ross sing. I was dubious as she has to be eighty if she’s a minute and I cannot imagine she will sign well. I witness this in opera: old divas past their prime doing concerts where her aging fans adore her despite she can’t sing anymore. Perhaps it will be camp. I may have snort; some of us will need a little fortitude to sit through ‘I’m coming out’ sung off key.

I should stop scribbling and focus on the current lecture, which is about how to treat new-onset schizophrenia in adolescence, They are the most challenging types of patients, right up there with eating disorder types and thems with personality disorders. So far I haven’t heard anything I don’t already know, but I wouldn’t mind meeting up with the lecturer afterwards to discuss details. oh dear there I go again. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas – unless you are dimwit and blog about it. Oh the embarrassment.

What’s top of my mind: A medical conference. Thursday through Saturday I attend a conference where I will powwow with my fellow wizards to learn all sorts of things. It is hosted by The Nevada Psychiatric Association, who always do a fine job getting the best speakers in on the hottest topics. I will learn a great deal and get enough credits so by the time I have to renew my license (again) I will have enough CME if asked about it.

Where I’ve been:  Community theatre in Mesa. Last Sunday afternoon we saw a show about a family whose 18yo daughter died twelve years ago and they are still trying to keep her memory alive. The play was quite good. It took place almost at the same time the Super Bowl was starting; apart from Someone and I, there was a group of four women, probably friends of one of the actors. It is hard for thespians to perform to empty benches.

Where I’m going:  Lost Vegas. After work Wednesday Someone picks me up and we drive to Lost Vegas for said conference. We are staying at The Paris Hotel. While I sit in lecture hall Someone will see the sights including the Oz movie at the Sphere and gamble a little. We will see Diana Ross in concert. When he proposed this my first reaction was ‘I thought she was dead”. We looked it up; she is in her 80s. Can you imagine paying up to hear an eighty-year-old woman sing?

What I’m watching: Consent form adherence. The Overlords have decreed upon pain of death (mine) do not see patients unless they sign the 2026 form. The only time I’ve been chastised by them was for seeing a few folks sans consents (that means without). Oh the horror. Besides my usual duties I have to open the chart to see if these forms are done, If not, the patient has to be called prior to their appointment to send them now or no appointment. These calls are tedious as it gets the patients complaining and bargaining to do the appointment over the phone as we are already talking (no). This will continue until March until everyone is done, only to repeat again next January.

Do you have to sign new consent forms each year?

What I’m reading: The lyre of Orpheus. No no no I said I would buy no more books until I read the ones already purchased. Fat chance of that. I was trying to describe a scene in the book to a patient the other day, which got me thinking about the book in general, which got me longing to read it again and The Kindle was right there to fulfill this longing. I started reading it and then put it down to concentrate on the tomes I am presently reading. I will read this one on holiday at month’s end. Oh, how I love me some Robertson Davies!

P.S. I didn’t connect the dots until now the classic cover for the book is modeled after the Strength card in Tarot.

What I’m listening to: Mr. Bunny. Until The Super Bowl half-time entertainment was revealed with him int it I have never heard of Mr. Bunny. The adolescent nieces rolled their eyes at my old-age ignorance. I don’t have a television, so I didn’t watch the show, but I heard the next day how wonderful it was.*. I went on The Tube of Yous to have a look-see at the fellow. He is a good looking hombre, well over four feet, with a nice voice In two weeks or so I travel to Puerto Rico; I suspect I will hear more of him there.

What I’m eating: Cloying Valentine’s Day sweeties. It seems little bowls of heart-shaped candies are everywhere these days. This year’s sweeties are hard as rocks and the writing on them is blurred. I like the red jelly-like hearts with a whisper of cinnamon. There were Hershey’s Kisses, wrapped in pink, red, and silver, but they were quickly consumed by what patients came into the office.

What sort of VD sweeties to you like?

Who needs a good slap: The last incarnation of The Receptionist. My place of employment has as much difficulty keeping receptionists as Hogwarts has with teachers for defense of the dark arts. The last one seemed to be competent and responded to needs as they arose, but she wasn’t too engaging. After what seemed only a short time, she went on leave of absence without explanation (to me anyway). I was told she would be gone for some time. Yesterday among all the positive gung-ho announcements in an all-employee email was the announcement she won’t be coming back. This didn’t surprise anyone. Perhaps she left due to a medical condition or personal issue. There is a sense she just didn’t want to work but she didn’t just quit after two week’s notice. Once again there is no receptionist and I have to do that job as well as my own. It is not difficult but extra work, creating longer work days. How the place is collecting co-pays and updating insurance is anyone’s guess.

On my 1-5 scale, I give her one slap

Who gets a fist bump: Spo-fans and blogger buddies, who made 8 February a special day for me. You are all dears – and not just for this! 😘

What I’m planning: A proper vacation. After the medical conference my thoughts and energy turns to the annual winter holiday, which isn’t in Palm Springs this year (worse luck) but Puerto Rico. On the positive, I won’t be doing my usual Julie McCoy role; that’s for DougT who will be there already. I get to show up with some Spo-shirts and a few books. Lovely.

What’s making me smile:  Planks. Urs Truly is trying to flatten his stomach (again) but this time I’ve succeeded in at least doing some front and/or side planks on a near daily basis for twelve months. I can now do front planks for a minute and a half; I can feel the abdominal muscles are stronger. This hasn’t translated much into a flat stomach, but I can smile a little at my perseverance and improvements.

Still, I’m not taking my shirt off in public any time soon.

*The notable exception was The Felon, who ranted in his usual bad writing how awful the show was. I wonder if he actually watched it.

#66. Which photograph(s) will you treasure forever?

First, I want to thank everyone who left congratulations and thank yous on yesterday’s feast day of the blog’s nativity. It was beyond wonderful. I am going to put it in the category ‘Best of Spo-reflections’, because of the comments, so whenever I am in The Doldrums and need cheering up, I can pull them up and read them. You are a dear – and not just for this! 😘 Spo

Goodness gracious, what does one write after yesterday’s entry? Something safe and structured, that’s what. #66 of the ’99 questions’ category makes it 2/3 through. Good for us!

The photographs I most treasure are all in frames, standing on various surfaces throughout La Casa de Spo, and not in my phone or laptop, which gives me the challenge how can I adequately describe them. Not well, I suspect. I fear I would not do them justice, so I will dodge a specific list of favorite photos and Spo-reflect on photos in general.

I have a lot of photos in my laptop from various trips and holidays, all labeled in folders with helpful titles like “Ottawa 2015′ for easy access, but I never look at them. It seems silly; isn’t the point of taking photos is to look at them? The photos of friends and relations in the picture frames seem to greet me as I walk into the room. As I type this, I see a photo on the dresser of Someone and I standing in pool with three chums. It was taken on a holiday maybe 25 years ago. In the home office hang photos of some of my ancestors: my great-grandparents; my great aunt; my great-great-aunt – can you imagine? They haven’t aged but I have; by now I am older than most of them in the photos.

When Father died we had the painful task of going through his photos, some go back to the late 50s. His whole life was there. There were pictures from my his wedding, my brothers as babies, and Urs Truly at 1yo. There were a lot of photos of people, probably relations, we couldn’t identify. My father and grandparents probably figured the folks in the photos would be easily recognized – which was true for them, but within one or two generations they become strangers.**. What to do with these photos? Most were thrown out, which felt like a sin. These long gone people existed only in photographs, and now they are gone as well; they have ceased to be even a memory.

An interesting phenomena is happening as I age: I am taking hardly any photos. In a situation where everyone is whipping out their cellphones to record videos or take photos, I try my darnedest to lay down memories of the experience. Perhaps my way doesn’t work as well as someone who takes photos? I wonder, isn’t it better to savor the moment for all its worth, even when you know a year from now only a bit will be recalled?

I suppose I have to pick at least one photo to show, one I treasure, so here it is:

This was taken at the bottom of the pool at Big Ruby’s maybe from the late 90s, I don’t quite remember. It is the most odd-ball photo of myself I have. It reminds me of happy times in Key West, Florida, with friends and Someone, back when the future was before us and Life seemed wonderful.

It is also silly as hell, which suits me fine.

**It is a reminder to always label photos of who is in the photo and where and what is happening – future generations will thank you.

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